The Dark is Rising
by Meredith Bronwen Mallory
Summary: Sailor Pluto strives to save the timeline when Usagi's soul is reincarnated on Nemesis
1. Prelude I

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Oh! I've posted two fics in five days! This must be a

record... ^_^;;;;; Anyway, this is my Usa-day fic, and the beginning of yet

another epic.

*dodges various thrown items*

I swear I'll finish TWOH this summer, even if it kills me!

Moving on, this is yet another canon fic- which should tell you something.

Of course, I'm completely innocent, and any blame falls on either Demando

or the following people:

Elysia

Patchie

Mizu

Kawaii-imouto-chan

They all contributed to my madness in some was- it's not my fault!

DEMANDO: Your halo is crooked.

MEREDITH: Is it, now? ^_^

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the feedback, and please direct any feedback to

mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com.

~Meredith

[http://www.demando.net]

LEGAL DISCLAIMER:

There was an Evil Mad Scientist,

Who lived in a pair of high-heels,

She didn't own Sailor Moon,

It's characters she would not steal,

She cackled evilly and filled her husband with dread,

Disclaimed all her fanfics and hit Mamoru over the head.

(Just for good measure, mind you. ^_~)

PERSONAL DISCLAIMER: I am a hopeless romantic, but not a very nice one. YOU

HAVE BEEN WARNED.

-----------------------------------------------------

The Dark is Rising: Prelude I

by Meredith Bronwen Mallory

mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com

-----------------------------------------------------

She was about to commit the greatest the Sin of her lifetime.

Setsuna paused for a moment in her stirring of the dark Avril tea, turning

the thought over in her mind several times, looking it over with a clinical

eye. Her garnet eyes narrowed ever so slightly as her heart lurched

painfully within her breast. Perhaps no so clinical after all. The Angel of

Time wished for detachment, prayed for apathy, but knew all to well that

it would be denied to her, as so many things were.

For a a brief moment- too brief to ease Setsuna's guilt- her own will

battled with that of the Command. But no, she had no Choice. The Command

would not be broken, the Will of the Universe would not be denied. She was

merely an instrument, a tool, her foolish human desires and emotions were

to be sacrificed in the name of the greater good.

It wouldn't be the first time.

With care, Setsuna finished with the tea (it smelled familiar- why?) and

removed the small black cauldron from its place suspended over the bed of

glowing crystals. Nemesis was denied a great deal- even fire.

, Setsuna thought without mercy, Idly, she wondered what ingenious (or

was that desperate?) Nemesisian exile had discovered how to generate heat

from those crystals posessing the Mica mineral. Without her, that pitiful

band of original colonists would probably never have survived. Rhyolite-

that was her name.

Rhyolite...

Serenity's incarnation had been named after her.

NO! Setsuna shook her head violently, almost spilling the tea (where do I

know that smell from?). She would not think about that right now.

Concentrating on loading the tea tray, Setsuan emptied the cauldron into

the pot and added the two tall containers of whatever Nemesisians

substituted for sugar and honey. That completed, she stepped daintily over

the body of Princess Rhyolite's pregnant maidservant, comforting herself

that the young girl was only unconscious.

I take only one life today.

Her hands trembled visibly as she set the tray down one last time. The

next time she picked it up, it would be deadly. Her palms burned, stung

with the pain of willful betrayal, as she reached into the pocket of her

borrowed servant's uniform and withdrew a vile of distilled Genkido nectar.

The flower only grew on Nemesis, and even then it was rare, growing only in

the most treacherous climes of Rueben

Setsuna thought, 

Suspect what, Setsuna?

Suspect that a Sailor Senshi poisoned her own mistress and Queen? That the

perfection that is the Angel of Time soiled her hands with the blood of

betrayal?

NO! Rhyolite was not Serenity, Serenity was not Rhyolite. They would never

be interchangeable. That was why Rhyolite must die. They shared the same

soul, that was all. Setsuna leaned for a moment on the polished black

counter, breathing heavily, wondering if she was thinking her own thoughts

or that of the Command. She couldn't be sure. Of it's own Will, her

delicately manicured hands

(you take such good take of your hands, Setsuna- but you kill with them)

uncorked the vile and poured the contents into the tea pot. For a moment

the shimmering red liquid swirled hypnotically at the surface, before

sinking the mix with the rest of the tea. It was done.

As Setsuna made her way out of the kitchen and into the corridor, passing

the guards with an air of 'I belong here, don't bother me', two fragments

of memory fell into place. The tea was made from Avril, a night blooming

flower. It grew on Pluto as well as Nemesis.

Or used to. Pluto was a dead world- now. Internally, Setsuna shuddered,

but the Will had taken hold of her now. There was no turning back. Like a

thing on automation the emerald-haired woman gliding through the silent

black corridors of Demando's underground fortress. Her dark brown skirts

brushed along the steps, making accusing whispers as she climbed higher,

towards the surface. Bellow, the Zougenotou Fortress stretched for some five

miles- providing housing for Demando's army, personal servants and his

court. But only the Zougenotou, only the White Tower was visible from the

air. It rose above the desolate landscape of Nemesis, stark and beautiful-

a monument to Demando's military genius and Saffir's architectural talent.

It was there, it that high ivory cage that Demando kept his most prized

possession.

His wife.

At least, that was how Setsuna thought of it. What she did not know (or

chose not to know) was how Rhyolite had begged her husband for that high

room, when all Demando had desired was to hide her away in the depths of

the underground base. In that Tower, she was vulnerable to attack, but the

Princess' own unique brand of persuasion convinced Demando to let her stay

in her loft birdcage. It reminded her of flying, she said, and they both

knew she could no longer fly. But it eased Setsuna's guilty heart and her

unwilling hands to think of this as a liberation.

she thought, 

The wide, bulky stair case gave way to a dainty spiral as Setsuna reached

the surface, but she had a ways yet to go. Now the dim light of Nemesis

filtered in through the tiny windows, casting for Setsuna a barely visible

shadow. Her legs felt as though they might give way, so much did her own

awareness rattle against her body, and for the first time Setsuna wondered

if she really would be able to live with herself after this. To kill the

one she was supposed to protect, to take the life of the Angel of Mercy,

Sailor Moon- it was the ultimate transgression.

Hoping to garner some strength, Setsuna whispered those words given to her

by the dying, twisted heap of flesh that had been the previous Angel of

Time.

"I am Temperance, the Angel of Time."

(Be fifteen, be taken from your home. Be frightened, tremble so much that

you embarrass yourself as you are led into the inner-most room of the

temple. Feel ill as the Priestess removes her hood and reveals to you her

true Face, the Face of Time.)

"I am without emotion, for emotion does not serve me."

(Throw yourself at her feet, beg her to take another, anyone besides

yourself. Clutch at those black, all concealing robes and feel her eyes on

you, measuring you, finding you unworthy. But you must suffice. There is no

other.)

"I am loyal only to the Will of the Universe. I do as it Commands."

(Feel the Priestess' claw-like hand press against your shoulder. Feel it

curl and draw blood. Hear her words, like dry leaves against the coldest of

stone, feel her chill breath against your ear. She says there is no hope-

none at all. You are the one.)

"I answer to no one."

(Now, be seventeen, but feel thousands and thousands of years older. Look

down at your Home. See the swirl of green cloud against the violet oceans

of Pluto. Know that it is evening on that planet, on your home. Aunt

Lyndisty is dressing for dinner. Cousin Miyuki and Cousin Matataki are

playing hide and go seek with Cousin Sayoni. Sister Hitomi is taking the

roast from the oven.)

"I have no guilt, for I am blameless."

(Feel the pain curl up and scrape along your insides. See the stars in the

distance cease to be, for Metalia has come. See that darkness, that all

consuming darkness, wrap around your home. Do not move, do nothing to stop

it- the Silver Millennium must know, must believe what devastation Metalia

is capable of. Your own people will be the sacrificial lamb. See that

shinning violet orb bellow you become a swirling mass of ebony. Know now

that everyone is dead. Lyndisty and Miyuki and Matataki and Sayoni and

Hitomi and and and...)

"I am Senshi Pluto, I hold the hour glass in my stainless palms."

Setsuna stopped as she reached the top of the stairs, a trembling waif in

the pale Nemesis night. She gripped the tray so hard that the decorative

carvings dug into her hands. Before her stood the door to Princess

Rhyolite's private chambers, and beyond that... her prey.

She stepped forward and knocked- boldly and without remorse.

Remorse was for later.

-----

Princess Rhyolite; Consort of Prince Demando- sometimes called the Heart

of Nemesis by her admirers- knelt by her bed in prayer. Her hair was the

exact shade of sunlight brushed gold as Serenity's, a color that Setsuna

had previously been sure could not be reproduced. It was bound up in

several intricate sections of braids, the rest falling loosely to brush

along the backs of her legs. A long, iridescent robe of crimson graced her

body, trimmed in black and slightly reminiscent of Serenity's robes of

state.

Serenity, trapped within her crystal prison- soulless- not sleeping (as

Setsuna had told the King) but very, very dead.

Rhyolite's lips moved faintly as she chanted her prayer, while Setsuna

stood frozen in the doorway. The maidservant who had let her in stood still

as well, loathe to interrupt her mistress.

"Fire, Water, Earth and Air,

Lay me to my bed with care,

If I die before I wake...."

Setsuna's soul tore red hot and scathing against her conflicting emotions

and the orders of Command.

she thought. Even thinking hurt

now. She was supposed to be a doll, a tool, an emotionless robot.

"Ma'am?" her voice sounded flat and dull in her own ears, and it broke the

spell of concentration that had gathered around the Princess.

"Yes?" Rhyolite asked, rising to her feet with barely managed grace.

"I brought your Midnight Supper, as you asked." Rhyolite frowned.

"Is something the matter with Gypsum?" the Princess asked, concern

filtering into her beautiful, painfully familiar features. Her eyes were an

aquamarine blue, dotted with gold.

"Gypsum?" Setsuna asked stupidly. Quickly, she added; "She wasn't feeling

well."

"Not the baby, I hope!" Rhyolite cried, "Its too soon..."

"No, not the baby."

"Good," the Princess smiled, accepting the tray from Setsuna and setting

it on the vanity, pouring a cup for herself and adding sweeteners 'by

ear'. She turned towards Setsuna, "Would you like some...?"

"My name is Shiori," Setsuna lied, "And no thank you, your Highness."

Rhyolite nodded in acceptance and took a seat on the small couch by the

window, looking at the foreign 'maid' with curiosity.

"You must be new here, Shiori," Rhyolite said, smiling, "How do you like

it at Zougenotou?"

"Just fine, your Majesty," Setsuna wrung her hands behind her back,

desperately. The Princess sensed she was nervous and smiled kindly, all too

kindly. The Senshi of Time had not been prepared for just how much this

girl would remind her of Serenity.

"You can sit down, dear," the golden child suggested, "Where are you

from?"

"Rueben, your Ladyship, and I would rather stand." The Princess looked

hurt, but said nothing.

For a moment she stared slightly off at some distant point, before she

bounced a little. Excitement swept over her features.

"Do you have word from my husband?" Setsuna swallowed hard and shook her

head. The other girl's shoulder's drooped to some extent, but she rolled

her eyes and made a little kicking motion with her foot.

"Drat that man!" the expression on her face mirrored exactly the one Usagi

often wore when Rei chastised her for no reason- a type of half-laughing

pout. " 'There's no need for you to come to this meeting' he says! 'It'll

only take a little while' he says! Men!" she shook her head and sighed,

"He's probably done more harm to the negotiations than good." Setsuna

recalled- perhaps because the Command willed her to recall- that Rhyolite

was often the tempering force behind Demando's alliances. There was a

reason she was called the Heart of Nemesis.

At last, as Setsuna had been waiting and dreading; Rhyolite took the tea

cup in her dainty, child like hands and raised it to her lips. She drank

deeply, and gazed at Setsuna over the poisoned liquid with innocent, wide

eyes. The Senshi felt as if the poison was sliding down her own throat,

needles pinching the flesh there.

"You look flushed, Shiori, are you sure you don't want to sit down?"

Setsuna raged internally, 

"If it pleases the Princess," the Angel of Time managed, "I am not feeling

well myself, and would like to be excused."

"You don't need to ask me!" Rhyolite fussed, "Go lie down, dear. If you

get the chance, please tell Gypsum that she's not to be out of bed until

she feels one hundred percent. I'll be down in the morning to see her."

Setsuna said, "Yes, your Majesty" She turned and passed through the

threshold, but she did not cry.

Expressionless, she glided down the twisted column of steps and vanished

from Nemesis all together.

Into the depths of her own private Hell.

-------

The Creature stirred. Shale could feel its ugly, reptilian body shift

against his back; its dry, pointed muzzle moving against the open wound on

his own neck. Having been lax with slumber, the claws that held Shale's

beating heart now tightened in awareness- and Shale felt his own terror

crystallize as well. Greedily, he grasped at the emotion, knowing that it

was his own.

He owned so little, any more.

Desperately, the young man attempted to control his breathing- if the

creature moved at all then its full consciousness would soon follow. His

hands- his mutilated, scarred and changing hands- shook as he positioned

the shears, then snipped the new, fresh stalk of Wormwood from its root.

He could almost taste it now, the heady, rich and smoky texture of the drug

as it moved through his blood stream. Being a scientist, he carefully took

note of which organs it would hit first as it traveled to its final

destination- his brain.

Of all the mind-altering, addictive drugs in the universe, many said that

Wormwood was the most dangerous of all. A native of Nemesis' harsh,

unforgiving clime, Wormwood was seemingly harmless in the first few small

doses. In the end, however, it flushed from the the body the most

important of minerals, replacing it with tiny colonies of Wormwood

crystals. As with most things from Nemesis, the result was death. For many

of its victims, the drug replaced everyday sanity with a tumult of colors,

took the senses and completely rearranged them. But for Dr. Shale Levitite-

who's reality was an endless swirl of alien thoughts and alien feelings-

the drug induced sanity. He hoarded that sanity like precious gold; for, as

each day passed, his body belonged more to the alien being that rode his

back and clutched at his heart with deliberately painful claws.

The bowels of Zougenotou's research facility were the perfect for growing

Wormwood, Shale thought thankfully. The emotion almost surprised him, yes,

but it meant that he was wrestling a bit of control from the horrid,

sleeping monster. Anymore, he feared he almost understood the alien

thoughts that reached out to his own, rifled through his memories and left

him feeling like an empty container. And last night, what had it said?

Jik-

Jak-

Jakokuzuishou.

Oh yes, Shale knew that word. Without meaning to, he let his free hand

lift to touch the delicate black sigil that rested against his forehead. He

had the Mark, alright, the Mark of one who could touch the jakokuzuishou's

dark, wild power. What was it they had said about him, when he'd stood in

the Registry office with wide, unblinking eyes?

"He's not worth the training."

Oh.

With his three Wormwood stalks in hand, Shale moved towards the pitiful

fire in the center of his room. He tried to remember what he'd sacrificed

in the burning this time- notes, most definitely, maybe even paper money. A

picture of his little sister, too. He knelt by those warm, forbidden

flames, cloaked by one of his few remaining sheets and felt miserable. His

face, beneath the cowl of the sheet, was too disfigured for any clear guess

at an age- no one would have believed he was but twenty two.

The flames licked at the edges of the Wormwood stalk, reflecting in

Shale's deep, gray eyes as they watched, hungering to touch reality. What

had happened, after the Registry office? He shoved the hot, burning end of

the stalk against his scarred hands, felt the sap eat away at the flesh

there, and remembered. There had been schooling, lots of it.

"If I can't use the jakokuzuishou's power, then I'll study it." Who had he

said that to? The Girl, yes, HER!

Like a steel trap, the Creature's thoughts closed around Shale's as they

wandered down that familiar path, shoving the memories away from the boy.

With a groan of despair, Shale hunched forward and wept. He shoved another

stalk of Wormwood up against what was left of his nose, and sniffed

forcefully. The charred plant burned a little, but he could barely feel it

any more. The skin and cartilage had peeled away days ago.

"Give her back," Shale begged, hating himself for being so pathetic, yet

yearning for whatever it was that was left of himself. The Creature's arm

moved painfully between his exposed ribs, and again the clawed hand

contracted around his heart. "Please!" he gasped out.

He tried to remember her, what she smelled like, how she talked and

laughed, how she made love. She had black hair (maybe?) and wanted to be a

minister (or was that someone else?). That was probably right, she talked a

lot about saving *something*. Maybe it had been him.

Shale laughed, he needed saving *now*.

"Shale? Dr. Shale of Levitite?" there came a pounding, from somewhere.

Belatedly, the young man realized it was coming from his door, and that the

voice belonged to one of his colleagues.

"Don't come in!" he breathed out, loud as he could. Funny, what the nose

did for ones voice. He was only realizing it now that most of his own was

gone.

"Are you alright?" the voice squawked, obviously having noticed the

difference as well.

"No!" Shale muttered truthfully. He looked around his room, with its walls

lined in glittering Wormwood plants and it's floor space consumed by

abandoned fire pits. With any luck he'd burn the whole fortress down,

himself included , and save Nemesis the trouble. Considering the colored,

molten expanse of his own hands, Shale shook his head. "I'm very sick," he

added at last, "Please, I'm sorry I have been gone so long. I know that

Lord Master Demando's project is important, but I don't think I'd be any

help to you the way I am now." This, he thought, was also the truth. He'd

been surprised they hadn't come after him sooner, actually. Demando worked

his scientists harder than he did his slaves.

"Alright," the voice conceded, not without a great deal of suspicion, "But

you'll need to come in tomorrow. We're trying to angle the jakokuzuishou's

power to support Lord Master Demando's fleet, but it isn't working.

*Everyone* has to come in tomorrow."

"I get your point," Shale snapped, then listened as footsteps retreated

down the vacant hallway. Unsure of its source, Shale none the less allowed

the wave of riotous red anger to consume him.

With his twisted hands (looking at them now he thought they looked a lot

like claws) he dashed his few unharmed possessions to the floor, then stood

in the darkened room looking at the wreck of his life. In the dim light of

the fire, he could see his reflection in the tiny, broken shards of what

had been his mirror.

"Just look at me," he whispered in that odd, nose-less voice. How deep it

was, how it echoed. He found it made his skin crawl.

Then the Wormwood finally hit his system.

"Just look at this!" she had spread her arms wide, she had turned to him,

she had been alive. That last fact was perhaps the most startling of all,

Shale considered as he gazed over the wide horizon of this new memory. She

*had* had black hair, he felt some triumph at that. It dripped in tiny

finger curls from the top of her head, twisting like a thing alive. She

moved with a funny sway to her hips, but she was excited as she spoke to

him.

"Have they ever found another crystal, besides the Jakokuzuishou?"

"No, just tiny shards of the main crystal. We think the Jakokuzuishou was

moved once before, about a century before Lord Master Demando found it and

moved it to his fortress." Detached, the young scientist watched another,

more human version of himself follow his own lover into the cave. Nemesis

was riddled with caves, with crystals, and with life-forms that dealt in

death. No wonder they called it a dead moon. The Jakokuzuishou itself

dealt only in energy of destruction, it did not know how to rebuild.

Shale felt the monster move again, felt it leaning over his shoulder and

looking into his reflection with interest. It knew he was remembering, it

was interested in the results of this memory. So, there had been a cave,

yes, and his lover. They had been looking for more crystals, even if they

were just Jakokuzuishou. He'd climbed up to one of the ledges to check on

something- a reading? no, something she'd seen- but came back down with

nothing. He'd been shaking his head as he turned back to her, to see that

wide, frozen look in her blue eyes. (Her eyes, yes, they had been BLUE!).

He'd said her name then, in worry and askance. Jaw limp with horror, she'd

backed away from him, and it was only then that he felt the claws digging

into his ribs, driving into his heart.

Finally, she screamed.

It had been a while before the monster had really begun to move into his

body. It had been three years.

"What-" Shale drove a mutilated, swirling fist of color into the wall, "do

you want from me!?!" The present was a pale thing, but darker than the

cave he had remembered. The bed-sheet slipped away, revealing Shale's

grotesque body and that of the creature, bent around him. It was little

bigger than his torso, hind feet digging into his hips as it laid its

dragon-esque head on his shoulder. Practically feeling the creature's

satisfaction, its firm belief that NOW (finally) was the time to do what it

was born to do, Shale clenched his jaw and asked the fatal question.

"What do you want?"

It came not in words, but in sensations that scraped along the young man's

nerve endings. An explanation, it was, but of a logic so utterly removed

from humanity that it nearly drove Shale mad. The creature was not born, it

was alive, but utterly without a species or home or family to have loyalty

to. It couldn't reproduce, it didn't know how to. It had no will to live,

but it knew nothing of the art of dying either. No motivation stirred its

thoughts for centuries as it lay alive, but hating that life. It had seen

many things, yes, but it had no passion for these sights, no appreciation

for the history it had witnessed. Aware, it hated its own awareness for it

was alone alone alone.

Whirling away from the rainstorm of such complete alien thought, Shale

found himself removed from his own room and standing in one of the lower

stairwells that led to the surface world. He knew without really knowing,

that he had come there in a fit of madness, and idly wondered just how many

people had seen him. That train of thought was lost, however, as the

creature's thoughts began to move again, trying to force more understanding

into its victim. Shale felt his body quake and wrapped the sheet (when had

he picked it up?) around himself once more. He looked down on instinct, and

his stomach turned. Horrified, he lifted his hands to his face only to

discover that his fingers actually pressed only against smooth bone. That

meant that those flakes of skin... were his own.

He wondered why he was still alive.

Lost to himself, Shale continued up the staircase, as if distance from his

room might lessen the horror of his experience. As he reached the ground

level, the magnificent light of the Milky Way rained down through the

windows, and he realized just how much time he had lost. For a moment he

stood staring up into the heavens, feeling his own wonder muted by the

monsters extreme, hateful disinterest. How much sleep he'd lost, he did not

know, but his body ached with the effort of even that small climb. He

rested against the window case, turned his back to the stars and gazed up

the ornate, woven staircase leading to Lady Princess Rhyolite's chambers.

Whether the clarity was leant to him by the Wormwood or by the monster,

Shale did not know, but every-day things were finally coming back to him.

Of course, he should know who Princess Rhyolite was, there wasn't a soul on

Nemesis who didn't. She was an unusual thing, they said, she had heart and

compassion and (the strangest of all) wrote poetry about how beautiful

Nemesis was. No wonder Lord Master Demando had snatched her up and married

her.

Married.

Shale wished he knew where Her (he still couldn't remember her name. Why

can't you remember her name, you thrice damned bastard?) tomb was. Then he

might stand beside the empty marker and ask her to help him, or to pray for

him, or something. She had been a minister, she would have known what to

do. Frustration wrapped around the young scientist, as real as the alien

Thing that dug its claws into his hips and heart. Why should he bother,

when she was gone and he was...

-ALONE.

Had anything remained of Shale afterwards, he would have told you that

moment was the first time there was no distinction between his thoughts and

that of the Creature.

But after that, there wasn't any Shale at all.

A figure moved down the stairs, suddenly, and the newly born thing

standing by the window stared at it openly. For a moment, the collection of

memories and feelings believed that it was Her, but when the figure moved

into the starlight, the illusion was gone. This woman had green hair, not

black. Long and straight, her tresses drooped slightly when they should

have shifted with life. It was the way she walked, however, that gave away

the game. The woman had her arms wrapped around herself, her head lowered

with her lashes draped over her eyes, and she minimized the sway of her

pale, curved hips.

She walked like a fearful woman, a guilty woman.

Then she dropped away, out of existence, vanishing if she had never been.

The thing, the newly born thing that had been Shale, whispered in awe as

he looked at the empty stairway.

"The Angel of Time has been here," he whispered in that nose-less, deep

and echoing voice of his, "and she has brought death."

Beneath the sheet that concealed the abandoned body of Shale, the

creature- the Death Phantom- smiled its particular, hateful smile and began

to tell the Wiseman what to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MEREDITH: You know what I'm going to say, don't you?

DEMANDO: Bwahahahaha?

MEREDITH: But it's so much more fun when *I* get to do it! 

BWAHAHAHAHAHA!

Can I have some feedback now, please?

mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com

mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com

mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com

mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com

mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com

mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com

mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com

mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com

mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com

Subtle enough?


	2. Prelude IIa

Author's Notes: Wow, this bed rest must be doing *something* for me.

^_^;;;; *giggles* Who knows, I may pull something really daring and

actually FINISH a fic. Ehehehehe.. or not. ^^; Anyway, I won't

take up much more of your time-- I just need to thank everyone who emailed

me with their wonderful comments on 'A View...' Chocolate Mamorus to you

all!

And a special chocolate Ellios for Elysia, she's my utterly amazing beta.

^_~

Oh! One warning: I'm rating this PG-13, since I have the word 'breast' in

here a few times...

DEMANDO: A few times?

MEREDITH: Yes, three or four times. I didn't really count.

DEMANDO: So, it's gratuitous, then.

MEREDITH: Pervert!

Um, enjoy minna! Please send feedback! I'll love you forever if you do! ^_~

~Meredith

Legal Disclaimer:

(To the tune of 'Jimmy Crack Corn')

Naoko owns Sailor Moon, and I don't care!

Naoko owns Sailor Moon, and I don't care!

Naoko owns Sailor Moon, and I don't care!

My White Prince has to stay...

^^; (Yes, that was pathetic.)

Personal Disclaimer: Crazy, I was crazy one, they put me in a room....

------------------------------------------------------------

The Dark Is Rising: Prelude II

by Meredith Bronwen Mallory

mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com

------------------------------------------------------------

Ten days, twenty hours and forty-seven minutes.

The pale, unreal setting sun spilled light through the heavy red drapes

and puddled on the tiled marble floor, waiting for someone to clean it up.

Endymion- who had been staring at it on and off all day- noted that it had

grown considerably smaller since noon. He dodged his own uncreative

thinking patterns and tried to think of it the way Usagi would. It was no

use. Never a man to let something go to waste, he merely added it to his

list of reasons why his Usako had to wake up. With a heavy heart, he gazed

on that well known form imprisoned within the coffin of crystal.

'You hear me, Usa?' he thought, and rested his head in his hands, 'You

have to wake up so you can explain to me how sunlight evaporates, how magic

happens and how you could possibly get so excited about candy. You have to

wake up so I can kiss you, and so you can laugh at me when I stub my toe in

my haste to get you on the bed.'

In her own little world, with it's crystal for sky and red satin for

ground, Usagi did not stir. With a heavy sigh, Endymion clasped his hands

and began to wait again, studying the rise and fall of his wife's chest

with careful, desperate interest.

Ten days, twenty hours and- he glanced at the clock- fifty-three minutes.

Ten days since the world had melted, the water and ice receding from the

devastated lands they had invaded. Ten days since a confused and utterly

disheartened planet had stumbled from a thousand years on ice and stood

blinking in the sun's feverish light. They knew they couldn't pick up where

they left off, couldn't gain that same horrific momentum of the prior time.

In the end, they turned to the Senshi, as Setsuna had said they would; and

they grasped at that new, heroic leadership like children frightened of the

dark, as Setsuna had said they would. So they waited with bated breath,

along with their Senshi and King, for their Queen to awaken.

In all that time, Usagi never stirred.

Setsuna had no explanation- indeed, no visible reaction- to that.

Smiling a bit bitterly, Endymion's gaze trailed over the lines, curves and

sensitive little junctures that composed his wife's body. She was not yet

that image of a white, angelic Empress the world would come to know.

Trapped, sleeping timelessly, Usagi was still that twenty-something college

student Endymion had known a thousand years prior. Ten days and a thousand

years of dreamless black ago, they had hurried down into the basement of

their Azubu apartment building, where they would sleep more than a dozen

lifetimes. How was he to know that was the last time he was to kiss her

(oh, it had been unjustly frantic), the last time she would smile that

trembling, forcefully brave little smile?

She looked soft in that enormous pink sweater and black pleated skirt, she

looked pale and she looked- dead.

NO!

Endymion grasped the fraying ends of his sanity and breathed deeply.

Setsuna- vague and distant though she'd been since their awakening- had

adamantly assured him that Usagi was not dead.

Not dead, only sleeping.

Didn't they put that on headstones, too?

For one horrific moment, Endymion saw the crystal coffin sitting six feet

deep in the flesh of Earth. It was so terribly transparent, he'd still be

able to see Usagi's pale, betrayed face as they threw the dirt down into

the hole, load after load...

He stroked the coffin's lid, directly over Usagi's cheek, as if it had

become an extension of his wife's body.

"You really have to wake up, dear," he said, forcing a laugh, "That

horribly organized mind of mine is running away with me again." No answer,

just the sound of the wind as it moved through the drapes. Looking down at

Usagi's form, curled up like a kitten with her head pillowed on her hands,

Endymion wished for the thousandth time that he might lift the lid and hold

her. But no, Setsuna insisted that it might be dangerous, there was a

chance it could break the enchantment that had preserved Usagi for so long.

Idly, the King wondered just when it was that Usagi had fallen from

enchantment into that deep, impenetrable sleep. A hundred years in? Two

hundred? From that very first moment...

He glanced at the puddle of sunlight again, noticing that it had lessened

a little more, and cast his gaze out onto the horizon. There were still a

few hours of sunlight left. Suddenly, he glanced down and was startled by

Usagi's paleness, by the contrast of her porcelain skin against the soft,

red satin.

"I've never seen you this pale," he whispered, "Never..." Endymion looked

around for a moment, feeling just a slight prang of guilt. The coffin sat

upon a small divan, it would be easy to move it out onto the balcony.

There, the sun might penetrate it's faceted glass and caress his wife's

small body. Climbing to his feet, he grasped the cherry-wood headboard and

began to push.

"What are you doing?" The words were not accusing, not angry or deep or

lilting, but careful and curious. Sailor Mercury, then. The King turned

and sheepishly ran a hand through his short, twilight hair.

"Well, that is, I..." his voice was hoarse, and broke just slightly.

Belatedly, he realized he was thirsty. "She's so pale," he said finally, "I

thought maybe I could move her out into the sunlight for a while- take her

back in before I go to bed." Sailor Mercury nodded slowly, moving out of

the threshold and into the room's full light. She surprised Endymion, for a

moment. She seemed saddened, changed and worn down. Then, berating himself

for being so selfish, he realized just how heavily this crisis had to rest

on the Senshi. Still, there was something in Mercury's quicksilver eyes

that seemed... terribly old. Knowing- that was the word he was searching

for.

Endymion frowned: What then, did she know?

"It won't do any good," Mercury said at last, her voice a long tone forced

from an unwilling instrument. She said it in such a way that Endymion was

surprised when she moved to help him. The Angel of Intellect smiled weakly,

"You push, I'll pull."

Together they moved their Queen's coffin out into the sunlight.

"I wish... I wish I could lift the lid, you know?" Endymion confessed,

leaning his back against the railing, not bothering to study Mercury's

reaction.

"I understand," from her voice, he could tell she was nodding. The

sapphire Senshi sighed, and there was the sound of swaying fuku skirts as

she moved to place her own gloved hand on the coffin. Quite suddenly, she

looked up and starred Endymion in the eye. Therein lay an iron

purposefulness that hadn't been there prior.

"I'm not a spell-caster, I'm a doctor," she said, and the King nodded. A

Pediatrician and a Cardiologist had some areas that overlapped. He

respected her medical opinion, viewed her as his peer. Mercury continued,

never moving, "I remember once- during my very first year of practice- I

had a little girl who was brain-dead.

"She'd fallen of her bike and hit her head. Of course, if she'd been

wearing a helmet she might have been alright- but that wasn't the case. Her

mother brought her in, you see. It was my understanding that she was the

girl's only family. Anyway, we put the little girl on life support, and her

mother would to sit by her bed and hold the little girl's hand. The mother

insisted her daughter was alive, said that if she was breathing and her

heart was beating she just *had* to be alive. Out of sympathy, I kept the

little girl on life support a lot longer than I had to. But, Endymion,"

Mercury's mouth hardened into a thin little line for a moment, "the mother

didn't understand. The little girl died the moment she hit her head. Sure

her heart and lungs worked, but... Endymion, the girl's mind, her *soul*-

they were gone."

In a rush of horror, Endymion let out the breath he'd been holding and

felt a sudden pain in his palms. He looked down, noticing the damage of

hands clenched so tightly that his nails bit through the skin. In the next

moment, as his mind took in every last detail of what Mercury had said, he

was running towards the coffin, grasping at the lid and leaving bloody

stains.

"Usa...." he bent forward, seeing the golden girl's chest rise and fall,

knowing her heart beat- but having no proof that her glittering soul was

still anchored to that lithe body. There came the sound of the red velvet

drapes being lifted and allowed to fall, and raising his head Endymion saw

the image of Setsuna reflected in Mercury's suddenly wide eyes. A sudden,

inexplicable cloud of guilt- that feeling of having been caught- hovered

above both the King and Mercury. He turned, more quickly than he had

intended, to see Setsuna and Senshi Mars looking at him in expectance and

reproach.

"Your Highness, have you had any dinner at all?" Mars' voice was slightly

accusing, as she already knew the answer. Inwardly, Endymion rolled his

eyes. So it was Mars' turn to force him away from his wife's side. Pity- if

it had been Neptune or Venus he might have begged off food and sleep for a

little more time.

"No, Rei," Endymion said, shaking his head- feeling the ghost of amusement

as Mars put her hands on her hips.

"You should rest, Endymion," Setsuna said, her voice was the most steady

he'd heard as of late, "All will be well soon." Surprised, the King turned

his focus to the Angel of Time and did a double take. She was dressed in an

outfit he'd never seen before, a heavy brown blouse over a long black

skirt- she seemed somehow monstrous in the fading light.

"Are you so certain, Setsuna?" Sailor Mercury's voice was oddly accusing,

and Endymion frowned at her even as he allowed Sailor Mars to lead him

away. Setsuna did not answer immediately, but instead moved closer to the

other Senshi in such a way that Mercury did not hesitate to put Usagi's

coffin between them. However, it was the words Setsuna whispered- so low

that Endymion knew he had not been supposed to hear them- that made him

start. His quick mind raced back over the memories of the last ten days,

reviewing the few times he'd seen Ami and Setsuna interact. The scenes

where shaded with his own ever-present grief, but in retrospect he saw

something different in the way they approached on another. Suspicion,

righteous anger...

Setsuna whispered lowly, dangerously:

"Take care, Senshi Mercury. Take care."

=======================

'We went to Roseland,

Oh, we went to Roseland,

We went to Roseland,

But we never came back!'

It was an old nursery rhyme, one of the few Nemesis had inherited from

Earth, and it served to fuel the vague unease that had settled around

Demando's shoulders. The White Prince recalled it, slowly, because the

concepts were unfamiliar to him; he knew what a rose was, but had never

seen one. This one, he considered, was preferable to 'London Bridge is

Falling Down', though he remembered his nanny had sung that too. Once, he'd

asked her what London Bridge *was*, but she hadn't known either.

'London Bridge is falling down...'

He had the sudden image of complete darkness, separating itself into

shadows.

The White Prince frowned, not sure what had enticed his mind to such

thoughts, and turned his attention back to the meeting. While he'd been

involved with his own ponderings, the Representative of Reuben had gotten

out of her seat and was now shaking her fist in the face of the Dyborian

Representative. Demando sighed, knowing he should have asked Rhyolite to

the meeting after all-- she knew how to deal with certain representatives,

particularly the difficult Topaz of Reuben.

"Lady Topaz, please return to your seat," he said icily, annoyed. The

meeting had already gone on an hour more than expected, if this kept up

much longer then Rhyolite would be asleep by the time he returned to her.

"One would think he wouldn't have to ask that of a Tribe Representative,"

the Lady Dybor -- Aventurine-- crowed, moving her plump lips in a mock

smile, "After all, we aren't in Grammar School, are we?"

"I wouldn't know," Lady Topaz hissed, looking much like a yellow-brown

cat, "Based on the fact you follow *him*," she waved her hand vaguely at

Demando, "seems to indicate you're stupid enough to be."

'Falling down, falling down...'

The uneasiness increased ten-fold, almost physical, moving in his blood.

Demando fought against it without understanding.

"Oh, the words of the dying Province," Aventurine sneered, "How's it feel

to be closed in, Topaz-sama?" The Dyborian woman raised a delicate,

electric green eyebrow, "Yours is the only Province that hasn't pledged

it's allegiance to Demando-ouji-sama!"

"Which," Demando prompted himself hurriedly, sensing his opportunity to

jump in, "is why we are here to today." In the background, the White Prince

sensed his brother has risen to take the stand in the center of the room.

Silently, he praised Saffir for always being so prompt. His brother would

be easier to focus on than the squabbling representatives.

"Exactly," said the Blue Prince, smiling towards his brother as he came to

the fore of the room. "Now, as you all probably know, relations between the

Province of Reuben and the rest of Nemesis are currently operating under

the Treaty of Wide Mountain. However, this treaty is only meant to be

temporary, and it is time that we set more firm boundaries. Especially,"

here Saffir paused, leveling his look with that of Lady Topaz, "since the

Province of Reuben refuses to hand over it's Marked to be trained at the

Center."

"I object!" Lady Topaz-- predictably-- shouted, "My Province does not

appreciate being pushed up against the wall here. Everyone else in this

*room* has given over their Province to Demando."

For a brief moment, Saffir closed his eyes, and when he opened them,

Demando saw a type of determination the Blue Prince rarely exhibited. It

was always there, laying beneath the surface, but it showed so little that

sometimes Demando forgot it was there. He kept his smile to himself,

though, thinking that there was every chance Saffir would win at least part

of the fight for them.

"This is understood," Saffir said, unconsciously shifting in his Center

uniform, "However, your Province has sent its guards. Have you forgotten

that they are standing outside the door?" Laughter rippled through the

room, predominantly quiet and polite (though Demando heard Esmerude's

'giggle' and cringed), but Lady Topaz's face still flamed.

"I have not forgotten," she spat, "I thought perhaps *you* had."

"Lady, I assure you, as both the brother of Demando and the Representative

of the Center; you won't be forced into anything. You'll always have a

choice."

'London Bridge is falling down...'

Concentration was almost impossible now, no matter how hard Demando

struggled. In his mind, he saw the shadows form a circle and begin to

dance.

'My fair lady.'

"Oh, yes," Topaz sneered, cherry brown eyes seeming to glow with her

anger, "Like the Dyborians were given a choice?"

"Objection!" Aventurine called, pouncing before Topaz had even finished

her sentence. Demando got the feeling she had been lying in wait for such

an opportunity. "The Province of Dybor was also given a choice. We chose

Demando-sama because in this day and age we *need* a unified Nemesis!"

"Oh, please," the Reubian woman sneered, "The only reason Dybor caved into

Demando was because he married one of your best pilots, who was also-- if

you'll remember-- 'adopted' by the Arch Duke. How many strings do you think

she pulled with 'dear old Dad' in order too-"

"That is *enough!" Demando shouted, almost jumping at the sound of his own

voice. The enraged words had escaped without him willing them too, but he

was almost grateful. Something... something had almost fallen into place;

the ill ease had almost found a focus. Now, all of that had burned away,

fallen under the anger he felt when anyone criticized Rhyolite. "That is

*quite* enough, Lady Topaz," he said voice frozen in wrath, "You are

stepping out of bounds. I don't care what the Rumor Pages say, this meeting

is not about your filthy gossip. And," he added, feeling the anger freeze

and solidify, "my wife's honor is *not* up for debate here."

"Oh really?" Topaz smiled, and Demando realized with a dull, throbbing

pain in his mind that she was far from finished, "She's Unmarked, too,

isn't she? How'd you manage to swing that, Demando-sama? Doesn't the Center

have rules about who you're allowed to breed with?" The disgusting, animal

terminology pushed all the wrong buttons on Demando, and he almost moved to

stand before Saffir's voice rang out quietly in the suddenly still chamber.

"Speaking of the Center," the Blue Prince said calmly, as if nothing were

amiss, "We still don't know *why* the Province of Reuben refuses to hand

over those Marked by the Jakokuzuishou."

"Saffir-oujisama posses an interesting question," said the small,

mousy-gray Representative of Levitite. She smiled briefly, as though she

realized she was speaking out of turn, but her eyes seemed to say 'And who

*hasn't*?'. "Since it's founding, the Center has been completely neutral to

all Province disputes. It was built in unclaimed territory to avoid such

entanglements. Why then, have you suddenly stopped allowing your Marked

ones to attend?"

'Take the key and lock her up...'

The shadows were dancing around something, Demando realized. No matter how

hard he tried to keep himself to the task at hand, his mind seemed drawn

back to the image. He felt somehow that he did not want to look.

"Why indeed, Lady Topaz?" Saffir's teal blue eyes narrowed, and he tilted

his head as if he alone could hear her answer.

"Because," the Reubian woman shook her head, her expression almost

genuine, "It's hypocrisy! The original 'colonists' of Nemesis were exiled

from Earth because they were opposed to the Senshi ruling the world. They

said it was wrong for any one person to draw from the energy of a planet

and upset the cosmic balance. The religion of the Cosmic Balance has, by

the way, been abandoned in favor of the Center." Lady Topaz paused for a

moment, and Demando leaned forward, allowing himself a small amount of

admiration for the woman. She would have made an excellent history teacher.

"When the first Marked ones began showing up on Earth, it was theorized

that they were reincarnations from the Silver Millennium, when Nemesis

wasn't an uninhabitable wasteland. Because they were so far away from the

Jakokuzuishou, though, they couldn't draw from its power. They decided that

it would be wrong to do so anyway, since it would drain the planet and go

against everything they had been taught! Don't you see?" her look implored

them, "We're the hypocrites now! The Senshi exiled our ancestors because of

their beliefs, and now we are dishonoring our ancestors by abandoning the

religion that brought us here!"

'Lock her up...'

For the briefest moment, the image changed to a view of the White Tower,

silhouetted against the brown sky and its perpetual stars. Warmth spread

through him as he thought of Rhyolite, who must be up there even now, and

he almost succeeded in turning away from the shadows.

'Lock her up...'

The White Tower still, but now just the frame of it now, with Rhyolite

sitting in her high room, unable to fly... The uneasiness became full blown

fear, a chill sweeping up against Demando so that for a moment he feared

Rhyolite was...

That was it; the shadows came back.

"The Center only teaches Marked Ones to control the power channeled into

them by the Jakokuzuishou," Saffir said, his voice oddly tight. The entire

room seemed submerged in feeling of regret.

"How long until they start using the power though? It's laid dormant for

centuries, but that doesn't mean *someone* won't decide it's time to truly

forget the Balance of the Cosmos and use the Jakokuzuishou," Lady Topaz

actually seemed anxious, the lines of anger having vanished from around her

mouth. "When we do that, it will make us no better than the damned Senshi

that sent us here!"

"Do you understand what it means, to be Marked?" Demando asked, trying to

keep the distraction from his voice. "It means being susceptible to the

bizarre wants of a crystalline intelligence. The Jakokuzuishou isn't human,

but it's alive, and we can't understand it's motives. The only way to live

with being Marked is to go to the Center and train."

"I know," Lady Topaz said, sounding tried, "It's a no win situation. But

if we ever take back Earth..."

"We are well aware of the Reubians' opinions on Earth," Demando didn't

bother to keep the bored tone from his voice. For the sake of the Japethian

Representative, he added, "And that the Province of Japeth also shares

those views. However, we have carried on for at least an hour over

schedule, and I'm sure we would all like to get home."

'Take the key and lock her up...'

Yes, home to Rhyolite, who was small and warm, and, when happy was always

happy with all of her being. Just as when she was sad, she was so with all

of her being.

Demando could not suppress the shudder now.

He saw the shadows again, dancing around a golden thing at their center,

killing it as they frolicked. He moved closer, or else they did, and he

could see what it was they were murdering...

'My fair lady.'

"You're not going to be able to avoid the issue forever,

Demando-oujisama," said Onyx, the Japethian. Demando saw the other man's

eyes narrow as he looked on his Prince, seemingly wary.

"I am well aware of that," the White Prince said impatiently, wholly

possessed by the need to go to his wife, place his hand over her heart,

feel it still beating. "I don't intend to avoid the issue at all."

"Earth needs to be taken back!" Onyx hissed. If the Reubian Representative

was cat-like, Demando thought blandly, then the Japethian was a snake.

"Lady Topaz was right about one thing; the Senshi had no right to exile our

ancestors based on their beliefs."

"Our ancestors, yes!" Demando fought to calm himself. If he thought

clearly, he could avoid the argument and get to Rhyolite all the more

quickly. "Look, every Nemesisian child is told fairytales of Earth. Yes,

that's where we came from, but why go back when the Senshi are obviously

the major power in the Solar System? Let them have Earth, if they want to

keep it to themselves and choke it. I think its time we stopped living in

the past."

"Demando-oujisama, your own rearing in Hinnah may have left you less than

spell-bound by Earth, but the Japethians believe..."

"I am well aware what the Japethians believe, Lord Onyx, and I respect

those beliefs." Demando closed his eyes, whether out of impatience or

weariness, he could not tell. In the next instant, his body rebelled

against the weariness, screaming once more the need to climb those stairs

in the White Tower, rush into Rhyolite's room and...

He had the sudden, black-burnt feeling that his wife was dead.

"However," he managed to add, "I am not in the mood to hear those opinions

right now." He raised his hand, as if to wave Onyx out of existence.

Glancing around the room, he saw that the other representatives were

already up, looking restless.

Demando said, thankfully, "Session dismissed."

-------

"Onii-san..." Demando felt his brother's presence before the boy spoke. He

turned expectantly, watching the darkened archways to see which set of

shadows Saffir would emerge from. That had been the game when they were

younger, to keep to the shadows, walk inside of them as if they were a

separate corridor, and thus avoid their Aunt's wrath. The light of the

glowlamps along the hall only served to make Saffir look darker when he

revealed himself. "Onii-san, I know you're in a hurry..."

"It's alright," the White Prince nodded, forcing his muscles from their

tense position. All he needed to do, he reminded himself, was to walk two

flights to the surface, and then the winding staircase... it had never

seemed so far before. He motioned for Saffir to walk with him. "How do you

think we did today?"

"Very well, actually," Saffir said, and Demando smiled.

"As did I," he replied, "all the fuss Lady Topaz made was simply a show.

The embargo placed on Reuben by Dybor and Xyon has practically strangled

their economy. It's only their pride that has taken them this long. I

wonder though, if they'll willingly turn over their children to the

Center."

"They'll have to, if they decide to come under your banner," Saffir

murmured, not without uncertainty.

"That's the one thing they'll hold out on, I think," the older brother

pointed out, "You saw how worked up Lady Topaz was. I think their Tribunal

shares her opinions."

"I think it's awful," the Blue Prince said, genuine pity in his voice,

"The children..."

"Don't remind me," Demando shook his head, "I remember what it was like to

be five and untrained."

"Me too," Saffir smiled wanly, and Demando knew that it was only because

it was in the past that he could do so. "Worst years of my life." Up ahead,

Demando saw the archway leaning to the surface, and sighed with relief. "Is

something wrong, Onii-san?"

"I'm just worried about Rhyolite," he replied, uncomfortable with the

admission, "The sooner Reuben signs the triple-damned treaty, the sooner it

will be safe for her to fly again." Saffir was silent for a long time, and

Demando raised a hand to rub his temples, trying to block out the image of

Rhyolite crying when she thought he couldn't see it.

"Onii-san?" Saffir asked, and by the caution in his tone, Demando knew

what was coming.

"Yes?"

"Lord Onyx was right; you aren't going to be able to avoid the issue of

Earth forever," the Blue Prince ran a hand through his hair, lowering his

eyes as if to hide his opinions on the subject. "It's not just Japeth and

Reuben. There are some Terra cults popping up even in Hadasha."

"I don't understand it sometimes," Demando confessed, "Have they ever been

there? Do they know what trees or grass or water looks like?"

"No," his brother said softly, "but they've been told stories. And some of

them," he said 'them' in a way that Demando knew he'd wanted to say 'us',

"have studied it."

"I know you don't agree with me on the subject," Demando said, "And I can

see where you're coming from, maybe. I suppose every child longs for

Earth."

"I understand, Nii-san," Saffir said, but his tone indicated he didn't.

The archway loomed before them, and Demando saw his brother smile in an

almost forgiving manner. The Blue Prince began to turn away, before Demando

put a hand on his shoulder.

"Speaking of Earth, Otouto-chan," he said, turning to piece the question

together. The sight of the stairway fueled the nightmarish images of

Rhyolite, trapped in the shadows' manic circle. "Do you remember..." he

tried to start again, "When we were little, you know how Nanny used to tell

us those nursery rhymes?"

"I remember," Saffir gave his brother a puzzled look.

"Well, there were a few Terran ones in the mix, if you recall,"

the White Prince hurried on, "The one about..." he pretended not to

remember, "... a bridge?"

"London Bridge," his brother said quickly-- so quickly, that Demando felt

his heart clutch in something not-so different from fear.

"What did it *mean*?"

"What, the nursery rhyme?" Saffir looked confused, "Well, London Bridge is

a place on Earth, in what used to be called England. But I'm not sure if it

ever really fell..." He frowned, seemingly annoyed that he could not call

the information to mind.

Demando pressed on, "What about the 'my fair lady' part?"

"Oh," a look of concentration passed over Saffir's face, "I'm not sure

about that either." He shrugged and smiled as much as he ever did; which

was not much at all, Demando realized suddenly. "It's probably just a

nonsense rhyme."

"Like the one about Roseland?"

The Blue Prince shook his head, "I don't remember that one."

"Something about not coming back," Demando murmured, feeling the hallways

suddenly darker than he liked. He clapped his brother on the back,

"Thanks."

"Why do you ask?" Saffir inquired, turning away.

"Oh," Demando said as he began to climb the steps, "no reason."


	3. Prelude IIb

-----------------------------------------------------  
The Dark is Rising: Prelude IIb  
by Meredith Bronwen Mallory  
mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com  
----------------------------------------------------- 

During the long climb up the polished white, shadow-drapped stairs of the Tower, Demando thought of Rhyolite. This was different because, while she was always a light dancing blithely in the back of his mind, allowing himself to truly grasp the concept of her was an all consuming experience. Dimly, he felt as if the fear was racing up the steps ahead of him, teasing him that it knew more than he, that he must not wait *any* longer, he must go to her *now*. Already he was almost running up the steps. What was it now, that made him feel as though her well-known, precious visage was not waiting for him at the top of the steps? 

He paused, just barely, before the heavily guarded doors that protected her (though he knew well enough that she needed no protection, not of that sort). The seconds it took him to wave aside the guards were almost unbearable, but at last he pushed open the door. Brown light spilled in through the windows and on to the black marble floor near the bed, but the bed was empty and Demando spared it only a fleeting glance. The fear was debilitating and distracting, but Rhyolite gave him purpose, and now that he was here he felt more in control. The door into her sitting room was open, occupied by sculpted chairs, but nothing of interest. He turned around fully, and saw his wife laying limp on the love seat.  
In a flash, the control was gone. 

He was not sure how he came to be by her side, leaning over her, pressing his fingers anxiously against her wrists and neck. Relief washed through him; it was the sound of her stirring in sleep, the rise and fall of her chest, the pounding of her pulse beneath his finger tips. Demando wanted to laugh, such was his relief, but he somehow felt that would be disrespectful.  
"Demando-chan..." he felt the word, the vibration of her neck against his lips, rather than hearing it. The shiver it sent down his spine was slow, deliberate, and the shadows withered in its presence. Rhyolite was laughing now, in that strange way of hers, purring like a pleased kitten as her dainty fingers moving to tangle in his hair.  
"I tried to wait up for you," she said through a yawn, "I thought you said I wouldn't be needed at the meeting?"  
"I did," Demando said, stroking his hand, then his lips, along her bare collar bone. "But the meetings could always use your touch, Lyte," he swept the straps of her long nightgown from her white shoulders, "even if they don't deserve it." The last bit was very possessive, he tightened his arms around her, hearing the cloth of his white suit brush against her skin. It was only when raised his lips from the delicate tracing of her ear that he realized she had closed her eyes. Something stabbed through him, then, the sense that she had left him even while he was holding her.  
"I haven't," she said sweetly, her lips moving into an expression that was something more than a smile. She raised her eyes, which were blue but so much more than that, and set her fingers to the task of undoing his jacket. "I just..." though she never moved her eyes from his, he knew she was thinking of the window, of the sky she could see through it. His own fingers played along her shoulder blades, and he thought, not without some bitterness, that there ought to be wings there.  
"The treaty with Reuben should be signed soon," he said. Somehow, almost without moving themselves, their position had changed so that his head was pillowed on her bare breasts. "It will be safe very shortly," he added, because neither of them ever said the word 'fly', not since... Well, he didn't like to fight with her.  
"Thank you," she said, in a way that made it seem like so much more than that. Her hands, smooth, warm palms, came up to trace against *his* shoulder blades now. The motion was comforting, Demando thought with a lazy smile. It was as if she wanted wings for him too, as if she would not leave him. 

Some time later, he wasn't sure how long because the world head narrowed to her pretty little heart-beat, she spoke again. "We should get to bed, you know," but it sounded like she didn't want to move.  
"Hai, we should..."  
"Demando-chan," she said with mock severity.  
"I'm moving, I'm moving," he pushed himself up on his hands, smiling down at her. The expression withered quickly; in the star light she reminded him of a particularly beautiful caged bird. "Lyte, I'm," his voice was low, holding more reverence than usual, "I'm..."  
Rhyolite smiled in a way that made him feel even worse for not being able to say it, "Thank you." Soft, breathless, like the sense of her lying next to him in the darkness. He shifted so that she might sit up, then took his place beside her. She stretched, the faded pink nightgown having pooled at her waist, utterly un-self-conscious. Absently, Demando ran his hand along her side, tracing the delicate engravings in her skin. The pattern was delicate, starting at the small of her back and winding its way up, skirting along the side of her breast, then curving back towards her right shoulder. It was, she told him, a tradition among Dyborian woman to have the engravings done, a section for each year of life until they reached sixteen. The pattern never faded, the procedure was painless, but the way it was done remained the knowledge of only a few select priestesses. No pattern was ever the same. The White Prince traced the golden markings, knowing that each one was a symbol. Lyte had tried to explain it to him once, in a low, hushed tone, but he was only able to remember one of them. He found it, along her side, from when she'd decided she wanted to fly; a single golden line, curling inward and then racing up, like a crazy shooting star.  
Flight.  
His wife watched him silently, as if trying to channel words through the place where their bodies touched. 

"You know," Rhyolite said, yawning as she watched Demando walk towards the bathroom, "I shouldn't be this tired. I got a nice little nap in there, but... I'm having trouble staying awake now."  
Demando paused in the doorway, "Are you alright?"  
"Probably," she shrugged her shoulders. Her husband looked at her a while longer, feeling the first talons of fear digging in once more. In the dizzying light of her presence, he had almost forgotten it completely. "Don't let me sleep late tomorrow," she instructed, once he'd vanished behind the door.  
"Oh, and what if *I* want to make sure you sleep late tomorrow?" he called out, teasing. He heard her laughter as though it had slipped underneath the door, and it made him hurry. 

When he came back into he bedroom, the glowlamps were off, and Rhyolite had vanished into the bed. She often teased him, saying she could get lost in it but, though he knew she was just hiding, it bothered him. Demando shook his head. In the shadowy corner, he saw Rhyolite's abandoned tea tray. The starlight caught only the barest edges of the porcelain, making it into a menacing half-image. The large, ivory tea pot, two smaller pitchers and single, empty cup. Emptied of all contents; completely taken in; gutted. Violet eyes narrowing, the Prince of Nemesis walked towards it, slowly, as though it was an animal that might pounce or run away. Pounce, he decided affirmatively. He lifted it quickly, opening the door and placing it out in the hall to be taken care of.  
For some reason, he felt better having gotten rid of it. 

"Boo!" Rhyolite cried, wrapping her arms around her husband's neck and pulling him down onto the bed with her. Her mischievous smile was charming, if a bit sleepy. It melted into half-pout, "What took you so long?"  
"Just cleaning up a bit," he said, toying with her loose, golden locks. She moved swiftly until she was sitting atop him, golden hair wild about her face and turned impossible colors by the strange light of Nemesis. Demando stared up at her, wide eyed and open mouthed, suddenly unable to think of anything to say. Her brilliant outline hovered before him, shadowed eyes and mouth, and he thought for a moment that she might vanish. Of their own accord, his hands moved upward, in supplication or in prayer. She stilled suddenly, beneath his hands, as if she suddenly needed to remind her lungs to breathe or her heart to pump. It occurred to him that she might have been fighting it all evening.  
"Are you alright?" his hands held onto her, but softly, as if she was asleep and he might wake her.  
"I think so, I..." she nearly lost her balance as she pressed her hands against her temples, "I have a headache." Her eyes were suddenly very bright, ""Oh, Demando, I'm sorry! I thought I was feeling better, but..."  
"No," he eased her down beside him, "It's my fault." "But I..."  
"You already said you were tired," he smiled lightly. His hands moved along her body, trying the sooth the sudden pain that had taken root. Warmth seemed to rise in her skin, welcoming the touch.  
Rhyolite shook her head, protesting weakly, "Wait, I forgot to say my prayers..."  
"You say them every night," his pressed his lips against her neck, "I'm sure you can miss just once."  
"I know," she frowned, with great effort, "but still..." Her voice faded away as Demando cradled with one arm, running his free hand along her neck to make her chill. It was his common method for banishing her headaches. She smiled, but he could barely see it in the darkness.  
"I love you, Lyte," he told her.  
Her voice was the sound of rain gathering in the distance, "I love you too, Demando." For a moment, the whole of her seemed to tense and he thought she might be in more pain, but then the ivory of her body relaxed and he was sure she'd fallen asleep. 

Rhyolite suddenly had the impression that she was floating, cool water caressing her limbs, drawing her down towards something. Has she been an Earthling, she might have allowed the current to carry her along, rocking her, towards the sea. But she was a child of Nemesis, and the sudden sensation of 'water' was frightening. She foundered, trapped; fighting as her mind opened like a flower. She had never felt water before, or even seen any that wasn't in pictures. The sensation became a sickening one; all Rhyolite knew was the rain, which came swiftly and killed slowly, like a starving animal. The blue liquid she saw in her mind was a trick, she realized. With that thought came the wild impulse to move, to ran away, but her body had suddenly become a coffin that refused to obey her commands. Earlier, she had thought its reluctance to move was a symptom of exhaustion, but now she saw it for what it was.  
'Move!' she ordered her fingers, her arms, her toes. They lay still, machines of flesh and bone, almost lifeless. Or else they were muscles in cages of skin, simply crouched in wait, rebelliously refusing to obey. Her heart lurched and, beneath the shroud of her eyelids, her eyes widened in fear. Her mind raced along her vocal chords, trying to find the right keys, but nothing would respond. The desperate need, not to live but to ensure that she was not drawn down that current of water, battled in her mind, trying to move parts of her body she'd never thought about before. How did her voice work, anyway?  
'Demando!' she wanted to call out, so much so that the tears collected in her eyes even though she couldn't open them, 'Help me! I don't want to go back!' She didn't even know what lay down the canal, the instinct was simply to fight it and go upstream. But she couldn't cry out, the words and anguish lay decaying in her throat; she was voiceless. She felt Demando's arm around her, felt his body against her side, and thought, with a bitter taste in her mouth, of how close he was. Her breath wrecked in her lungs, once, twice, a deadly third. Now even her mind stilled, anticipating the fluttering of her lungs, the movement of blood in her veins. It suddenly seemed like a millennia between heart-beats. 

. . . in . . . 

How had this happened? Anguish colored her mind, as real as her fear. Rhyolite grabbed desperately at the days events, clawing. Breakfast in the morning, with Demando, in the twilight darkness. A few hours of her own time, spent inspecting Saffir's new design for the flyers. 

. . . out . . . 

Meetings, all with flustered officials, long into the height of the 'light' hours. Lunch with Gypsum. Daydreaming, longing for flight, as the illumination vanished from the sky. More meetings, skipping dinner, finally retiring to her rooms. Midnight supper with...  
Shiori. 

. . . in . . . 

"Is something the matter with Gypsum?"  
"Gypsum?" a long, almost forgetful pause, "She wasn't feeling well." Rhyolite wanted to sob, weep, scream in the sudden realization of betrayal. Shiori; garnet eyes guarded, stance uncomfortable. 

. . . out . . . 

She suddenly had the disgusting image of herself, small and defenseless, being sucked through a tube into another container. The picture was detailed, she could see herself, trapped like an insect. That was where the current led, down into the ocean and into another set of bones and blood that moved when she told them too. The knowledge of Shiori, from a strange and different perspective, lingered just beyond, but Rhyolite fought the drawing of her soul with all her might. Her "hands" picked along shards of glass, showing images she did not want to see.  
Shiori's garnet eyes were among them. 

. . . . . . 

Rhyolite almost understood. But she felt the sudden stillness of her heart, and her last wish was that she had said her prayers.  
Then her heart stopped. 

---- 

Nemesis turned it's back on the sun, taking only the light of the stars, a light that cast strange shadows everywhere. Out on the staircase, the dim illumination avoided a bent figure, allowing the shadows to help the creature as it curved the borrowed body and picked up the half-full teapot. Inside the Princess Rhyolite's chambers, the shadows were only slightly move abundant, falling softly on the couple in bed. 

Demando slept, holding his wife's corpse long into the night. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

MEREDITH: BWAHAHAHAHA!  
DEMANDO: No, wait... that's not fair! I object! I *strongly object*!  
MEREDITH: What's wrong?  
DEMANDO:   
MEREDITH: Ehehehehe...  
DEMANDO: You know, I think this counts as abuse. I'm leaving! *starts to leave in a huff*  
MEREDITH: Ah, Prince-darling? *points to the fact Demando is chained to the nightstand*  
DEMANDO: -_-;  


Email me! Your opinion matters! ... Come on, you know you WANT to email me! ^_~  
mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com 


	4. Prelude III

Hello! Thank you so much for taking the time to look at this story! *hugs each and every person* I feel awful for disappearing like that-- but hopefully it's okay if I pop up every so often! ^_^;;; 

DEMANDO: I was so hoping you were dead.

MEREDITH: [hugs the prince] I couldn't leave you...

DEMANDO: .

Also, I promise this is the only time I'll plug, but I have discovered the wonders of Padme and Darth Vader-- that's right, Star Wars Fanfiction:

http://demando.net/stolenmoon/

Anyway-- this is actually a lot shorter than usual, but it's the end of the prelude section for The Dark is Rising. Thanks as always to Ely and my most beloved imouto Jo.

It's taken me a while to get up the courage to send this, so I do hope you enjoy!   
-Meredith

(to the tune of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star")

"Little fic, go forth," I said,

As I haued myself to bed,

As I slumber in the sack,

I hope kind people leave feedback.

So be to my fic be kind,

And leave some feedback behind!

----------------------------------------------

The Dark is Rising

Prelude III

by Meredith Bronwen Mallory

mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com

http://www.demando.net

----------------------------------------------

A void pulled on Demando as he slept, sliding silently against his skin, prying him open with its sharp knives until it climbed into his body and changed him, changed the world in a way he wouldn't notice when he opened his eyes. His mind plunged into dreams, brief flashes, grotesque fancies grand in scope and detail, though he could only glance at them briefly before he had to turn away. There was a child, the daughter he wanted so violently that he never admitted it. He held her form in his arms-- such a sweet miniature of his Lyte!-- and felt the gaping whole in her body. Agony washed over him, his daughter's agony, the pain of other children, screaming with their annihilation, their death before birth. Waking, he was a small child, running through corridors lit with a dusty winter sun-- a sun he hated-- opening doors, slamming them, hearing his own footsteps and nothing else. He woke again, bent over a cold cradle of marble, where Rhyolite floated in a mixture of her own blood and the myth called water. He woke and woke, dying a thousand tiny deaths, until the void was too much to bear, and he opened his eyes.

Laying flat on his back, Demando stared up at the ceiling, waiting breathlessly to be tossed into another nightmare, another endless maze. Relief pounded in his veins, hot and heady, as he took in the high window, the sky Rhyolite loved and, beyond that, the cold gaze of the stars. Laughter tore from his throat, brief and somehow hysteric, swallowed easily by the room's strange new silence. Instinctively, he reached for his wife, trailing the tips of his fingers against the comfort of her arms. He held her against him and felt a cold so merciless that he almost cried out. For a long moment of free-fall, his mind hid itself away. Awareness came back slowly; first, the colors which seemed bright and mocking, and then his hands, holding Lyte who was cold, so impossibly cold. He held her a an angle, and her head tilted back and hair spilling down until she looked more like a statue, a work of art, than a human being. Mouth forming words of denial, he pushed her away frantically, and she fell to the bed like an abandoned china doll. He gathered her up again instantly, sobbing without tears.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed into her hair, her neck-- as if she had been able to feel pain. "I'm sorry, darling, really I am," his arms tightened around her form, raw with anger and denial. "I didn't mean it, oh, Lyte, I didn't..." Carefully, Demando laid his wife back on the bed, arranging her hair, her hands, tucking the covers up around her as though she was a child. Rising from the bed, he stepped backward cautiously, aware of each breath. 'I'm stabbing her,' he thought wildly, 'I'm hurting her because I'm alive.' 

Even from a distance, he could hold no illusion. She didn't look like she was sleeping, she didn't look like she was anything but empty. "Lyte," he said again, because it was the only word that could hold everything without coming apart at the seams. He could see through his own insanity, he knew and did not know she was dead. Aimlessly, he took a step towards her and then moved away, before he turned and grabbed up a soft quilt lying near the bed. Rhyolite's hands danced briefly in his mind, like the flickering of flames; he saw her soft palms, delicate fingers toiling over the quilt, wielding her needle like her mystery, red on white. Slowly, he raised the blanket to his face, enveloped by her lingering unmarred scent. Wrapping his wife in the quilt, Demando lifted her into his arms, supporting her as one would a child.

"Don't worry," he told her softly, feeling the tears come at last. They must have been hot from his anger, from being held in so long, but he couldn't feel a thing. "It's going to be alright, I promise." He strode toward the doorway, tasting the lie in the back of his throat.

When he came to his brother's door, he was seeing the high black corridors as his own tomb; when Saffir's face became clear and his voice close by, Demando knelt on the floor with his Lyte cradled gently in his arms. Saffir knew, but could not loosen his brother's grip, no matter how many times he repeated that Rhyolite was very, very dead.

= = = = = = = = = = = = 

Her name was Selenity Usagi Rhyolite and she was fifteen seasons twenty-two years nineteen moon-turns old; her mother was Selenity the Third, Tsukino Ikuko, and a woman who's name she would never know, for the rain had taken her bones to dust. 

She was someone else, too-- someone who was all of her, everyone together singing in one voice and yet more than the sum of its parts. She settled like the layers of a rainbow against a glass bowl; displaced, cold and uncertain. There was a flutter of movement, the lovely hands of death against her cheeks, and the blooming of blood light behind her eyes. She lay still on a surface of ebony glass, listening to horses ride off in the distance, where the sun was red and full and close. Experimentally, she moved her fingers, feeling the ivory bones inside, and the little blue red runnings of thread beneath her flesh. 

Then--

A feeling of wandering under ceilings that held the water away, stepping into a body the way one puts on clothing. It was all perception; she was dead and seeking a place to exist when something-- (someone I know, someone I loved...)-- had turned her away entirely. She was drawn back to the old lungs, the still gold hair and the heart that had lain still for ages because there was no place else to go. It was like snapping gemstones int0 a setting, or fine copper cogs into place-- here the body's arms were now her own; the new heart moved as the pervious one had been slowed. Rage was in there, too; rage at the force of her death fused her bones and veins until she tilted her neck, pink lips pulling at the sweetness of the air like a woman bursting from the depths of the ocean. 

Above, the world was a faceted earthquake-- through the clear coffin casing she could see the blurs of faces that should have been familiar, but instead infused her with the feeling of having been buried alive. The coffin tousled, a boat upon the endless waves of fear, and then she was freed, air rushing over her, allowing her to see the world clearly once more. Masks moved about her; here, one framed by corn-flower blue silk, with eyes that tilted inward towards the mind; and there, the void fluttering around violet that spoke only of fire. Her throat moved, an antique instrument. Though she could not speak, she could make the noises of weeping and laughter she desired. Happiness clawing at one empty breast and sadness at the other, she reached out, felt hands and shoulders and hair, murmured names with her forgotten voice.

When arms came around her, loose and protective, her body stilled in confusion, taking in feel and smell to identify the stranger. Warm arms pressed her in, there was a voice by her ear saying 'Usako, Usako' like the fall of deadly rain on the window of her high tower. Her pale hands came to mark distance between the two of them, and she stared into his blue eyes, trying to read the words behind his dark pupils. 

"Mamoru," her lips dropped the word without true understanding of what it meant, but oh did he smile! She moved her hands against the lavender of his robe, marveling at the strange small fingers, at the fact the little fleshy animal obeyed her commands.

"Usako," he planted the word in her hair, and raised his fingers to touch the fall of rain on her cheeks. It was like the after-image of the sun, divine and beyond understanding, and Usagi (I *am* Usagi, I *am*) felt the other world fall away from her mind like a broken string of pearls. She smiled, cupping Mamoru's cheek, whispering a dozen little names for him, looking for the tiny silver stars hidden in his eyes, until at last she settled her head on his shoulder and cooed her comfort against his trembling hand. Her eyes greeted each of her friends on turn, and her free hand reached out to wipe away the tears, until she looked past them all to the figure in the doorway. 

Garnet eyes-- glass edged with blood, and emerald hair that shifted without the breeze, like the fingers of Usagi's own destruction. Her fingers tightened, and she felt Mamoru stiffen in response, and suddenly knew that for a long time he would be terribly afraid. His eyes peering into her face could not erase the shards of pigeon's blood she saw, or the sullen look on the face of her oldest, most destructive Senshi.

Usagi screamed with fear for herself and the person she had been; "Get her away from me!"

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

MEREDITH: *bats her eyes* You know what want...

DEMANDO: You still have to finish the Will of Heaven.

MEREDITH: *dies*

DEMANDO: *rolls his eyes* Send her feedback, so she won't kill me when she wakes up. ^_~


End file.
